


Breakfast in America

by TheResurrectionist



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batdad, Bruce seriously control your children, Crack, Dick Grayson can wear a bikini and no one will tell him no, Fireworks, Fourth of July, Gen, Photo Shoots, Wayne Family Shenanigans, batfamily, dad jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 07:56:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11398341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheResurrectionist/pseuds/TheResurrectionist
Summary: A Fourth of July swimsuit photo shoot at Wayne Manor goes...about as well as can be expected.(featuring skimpy swimsuits, pure chaos, and the tireless Batdad, grilling and making dad jokes to his heart's desire)





	Breakfast in America

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to batwayneman, as always, for letting me pitch half-finished fic ideas at three in the morning and not blocking me. (yet). I hope you enjoy!

"Alright, now a little to the left, Bruce, baby- _yes,_ exactly like that."

Clark blinked as the camera's flash filled the backyard. The cameraman stepped to the right, angling for a wider shot.

"Tim, sweetie," the Vanity Fair producer crooned, hovering just above the cameraman's shoulder. He was wearing an outlandishly purple suit, undoubtedly giving Bruce Joker-adjacent anxiety. "Could you sit a little closer to your brother? Great, sweetcheeks, now both of you look  _right_ at me…"

Tim looked horrified as he scooted a millimeter towards Damian. The pool behind them, as well as the gratuitously tiny, American flag-decorated swimsuits, provided the perfect backdrop for his blush.

It was a beautiful day in the Wayne gardens. The pool was a brilliant blue behind the family, reflecting the noon sun. Clark stood off to the side, perfectly willing to let Bruce soak up the (necessary, and carefully crafted) attention.

"Dick, how about you put an hand on Bruce's knee, hmm?" the producer suggested, tapping on the cameraman's shoulder. "Show me some  _fire,_ boys! I need something other than poker faces, alright?"

Bruce sent Clark a glare over the producer's shoulder. Lounging between his children pool-side, he looked effortless and chic in a dark blue speedo. Yet, all of Bruce Wayne's charm and charisma was slowly bleeding out of his features, leaving behind something that was half Batglare, half exhaustion.

Dick smiled wide, placing his hand on Bruce's knee. They leaned in, catching the shot perfectly as Tim, Jason, and Damian copied the pose. The producer looked thrilled, waving at the back of the Manor in excitement.

"Girls! Girls, I need you next. Yes, yes, yes." His eyes widened dramatically. "Oh  _no_. No no no no-"

Clark turned to see Stephanie and Cass walking down the back path, arm in arm. Stephanie was wearing a bright blue bikini, while Cass was dressed in a dark tank top and board shorts.

"This is  _not_ right," the producer said, waving a hand at Cass. "Cassie, honey, where's the swimsuit I laid out for you?"

Stephanie frowned at the man, letting go of Cass' arm. "She didn't like it."

"No red," Cass added, following her sister to the pool. They sat together, legs pulled up. "I like...black."

The producer made a dissatisfied sound in the back of his throat. "Cassie, honey, can't you just put it on for a few minutes?"

"Hey, man," Dick frowned at the camera, "She said she didn't wanna wear it. Let it go."

Jason stuck his tongue out as the cameraman attempted to zoom in for a pensive shot. He continued to contort his face as the poor man moved on to Damian, who looked murderous.

"Sit to the side, then," the producer said, muttering under his breath. " _Fucking adopted chinks-_ "

Bruce's eyes widened, almost imperceptibly. Clark could pinpoint the exact second the producer's fate was sealed in the way his lips pursed, ever so slightly.  _Bad idea._

"Oh, hell no," Jason said, getting up. He squared his shoulders. "What did you just say?"

"Sit down," Bruce growled, low enough that it wouldn't carry. " _Now._ "

"Did you hear what he just  _said-_ "

Dick stood as well, pushing off of the concrete. He carefully inserted himself between Jason and the producer, who'd gone silent at the sight of Jason's height. "Look, let's just all cool down for one second-"

Titus' barking began in the distance, swiftly followed by Krypto's excited yapping. Clark turned towards the Manor, unsurprised to see the two dogs racing between the hedges. Alfred's distant figure was chasing after them, a rolled up newspaper in one hand.

" _Out! Out! No snouts near my pies, oh no!_ "

Clark smiled to himself as the dogs ran towards the pool, forcing his features back into a blank expression. Behind him, the producer was arguing with Dick now, Jason a fuming presence at his side.

"-and look, if it means so much to you that someone wears the damn bikini,  _I_ will be more than willing." Dick said proudly, getting a surprised snort from Jason. "No, really. I bet your readers would love that."

The producer's mouth was agape. Behind him, the cameraman was taking confused shots of Bruce, who was staring at his sons with obvious glee.

Cass and Stephanie giggled as Dick stamped back towards the Manor. Damian reached for Titus, petting his head gently.

"Can my dog participate?" he asked the producer, the first words he'd spoken all afternoon. "He's well trained; he'll sit, when needed."

" _No,_ " the producer sneered, snapping at the cameraman. "Brett, back over here. I need a shot of Wayne and the blood-son."

Damian looked noticeably offended at Titus' exclusion, to the point of ignoring the 'blood-son' comment. He whistled once, gesturing behind his back at the producer.

Titus followed his master's command, jumping at the producer with an excited bark. The man spluttered as the dog licked him enthusiastically, slobbering all over his suit. He went teetering backwards towards the pool, and, oh, Clark could tell where this was going…

"Oops," Tim said, sticking out a foot. Bruce sighed and shuffled out of the way as the producer tripped, falling backwards into the pool.

An outraged shout was cut off by panicked splashing. The purple suit took on water quickly, ballooning around the producer.

The cameraman sent Bruce a desperate glance, looking for a responsible party. Bruce suddenly became intrigued by his fingernails, whistling under his breath.

"-how- _gak_ -how  _dare_ you!" the producer gargled from the shallow end, struggling to stand up. "You little brats!"

Jason thumbed at his red, white, and blue trunks. "Watch your mouth."

"WAYNE!"

"Oh, wow, look at the time," Bruce said, climbing to his feet, "I need to get the grill ready."

Dick chose that moment to reappear from the house. He pranced into the pool area, Cass' red bikini straining at his hips.

"Ta dahhh!"

Tim froze in shock, while Damian simply shook his head. Jason snorted, quickly devolving into giggles as Dick began to shimmy around the pool, singing to himself.

" _You can see me, you can't squeeze me, I ain't easy, I ain't sleazy, I got reasons why I tease 'em,_ " he sing-songed, adding a bit of hips in. " _Boys just come and go like seasons, Fergalicious_ -"

Clark turned to Bruce, who looked like he was fighting a losing battle against laughter over at the grill. Alfred had appeared with a platter of brats and hotdogs, depositing it next to his ward with a worried glance.

"The only thing he can't burn, I'm afraid," the butler stage-whispered to him, ignoring the dance show with years of practiced disinterest. "He insisted."

"You have to grill out. It's the Fourth of July," Clark said, shaking his head as Dick booty-bumped Tim. "We always did back home. Corn, steaks, kabobs, the whole deal."

"Why you Americans insist on celebrating this ridiculous holiday escapes me," Alfred muttered, wandering back inside with the tray. Bruce turned on the grill, making a pleased noise under his breath.

"TAKE IT OFF!" Damian was yelling, pounding on Dick's chest with his fists. " _Grayson_!"

"Oh, you want me to take it off?" Dick asked, slipping a finger under the bikini top's strings. "You want me to take this off? Right now?"

" _No_!"

The producer had finally managed to crawl out of the pool. He narrowly avoided being hit by a flying Damian, who hit the water with a thunderous splash. The youngest Wayne was out of the water almost instantly, diving for Dick, who was laughing uproariously.

"Whoops," Jason said, stumbling backwards. He collided with the producer none too gently, sending him careening back into the pool. "Whoah, didn't see you there, buddy."

Cass buried her face in Stephanie's hair, giggling. Stephanie looked smug, stretching out her legs. She winked at the cameraman, who took a picture on autopilot.

"WAYNE!" the producer roared when his head was out of the water, his carefully-gelled hair clinging to his face. "CONTROL YOUR CHILDREN!"

"Oh, did he say something?' Bruce didn't turn from the grill, waving a hand, "Boys, why don't you grab the fireworks? It's almost time."

Clark frowned. "Bruce, it's noon."

"How the hell am I supposed to know that?"

Tim 'helped' the producer out of the pool, only to let his hand slip at the last second. The man went back into the water with a shout, slamming into a painful bellyflop.

At this point, the cameraman was packing up quickly, eyeing the Wayne children in outright fear. Damian had already found the cherry bombs, and was tying them together with great concentration, Titus breathing down his neck.

Jason had a nerf gun in hand that looked like it shot firework pellets. Which was...terrifying, now that Clark thought about it.

"Do your family photo shoots usually go this way?" He asked as Bruce put on the brats, turning them with the tongs.

"That hinges on your assumption that we have successful family photo shoots."

"-going to  _sue you_!" the producer had finally made it out of the pool in one piece. His purple suit was dripping wet, only highlighting the mottled red his face was turning. "Wayne!"

"Yeah?" Bruce said, turning towards the wet man, spatula in hand. "What's up?"

"I'm horrified," the producer said, shoving his way over to Bruce to wave a finger in his face. " _Horrified,_ do you hear me?"

"Hi horrified," Bruce said, smirking, "I'm Bruce."

Tim and Damian groaned in unison behind him. Clark hid a smile. The producer made an outraged squeaking noise in the back of his throat, waving his hands wordlessly.

"You're  _done,_ do you hear me? You'll never see the cover of Vanity Fair again!"

"That's strange," Bruce said, turning back to his brats. "I'm pretty sure I own that one."

Clark snickered as the producer stamped away, his face a bright red. The cameraman, a wise, wise individual, was long gone. In the distance, a bottle rocket flew towards the Manor.

"Not the windows!" Bruce yelled, flipping the brats. "You know what happened last time!"

Spotting a cooler off to the right, Clark grabbed a pair of beers and brought them back. Bruce accepted one with a nod, flicking off the cap with his thumb.

"I think that was the most patriotic thing I've ever seen," the billionaire mused out loud, gesturing at the kids.

Clark took a sip of his beer. "What, the swimsuits? Or the systematic destruction of that man's will to live?"

"Both."

"Hmm. I thought I was the most American thing since apple pie."

Bruce quirked a brow. "Apple pie isn't American."

"That hurt me on a personal level." Clark put a hand to his chest, "You're a cruel, cruel man."

"Yeah, yeah."

They flipped burgers in a companionable silence. Far away in the gardens, the kids were dueling in bottle rockets and twizzlers, Krypto and Titus bounding after them.

"You know what?"

Clark took a sip of his beer. "I'll bite."

"I'm not going to publish any of the group shots."

"No?"

"No," Bruce grinned, transferring the burgers from the grill to the plate. "Just the ones of Dick. Front page."

"He'd enjoy that."

" _BRUCE_!" someone screamed in the distance, "JASON JUST PUT A FIREWORK IN HIS-"

"Nope, nope," Bruce muttered, putting a hand over his ears. "Nope. Definitely not my problem."

Clark squinted at the kids, then immediately decided super senses were overrated. "Wish you were out patrolling instead?"

"You have no idea."

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Leave me a comment, and let me know! Happy 4th!
> 
>  
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/frownyalfred)


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